From W. Bruce Cameron, the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novel A Dog's Purpose, which is now a major motion picture!
Set against the most dramatic time in our species' history, The Dog Master tells the story of one tribe's struggle for survival and one extraordinary man's bond with a wolf-a friendship that changed mankind forever
Thirty thousand years ago, ice was storming the planet. Among the species forced out of the trees and onto the steppes by the advancing cold was modern man, who was both predator and prey.
No stranger to the experiences that make us human-a mother's love and a father's betrayal, tribal war and increasing famine, political intrigue and forbidden love, joy and hope and devastating loss-our ancestors competed for scant resources in a brutal landscape.
Mankind stood on the cold brink of extinction...but they had a unique advantage over other species, a new technology-domesticated wolves.
Only a set of extraordinary circumstances could have transformed one of these fierce creatures into a hunting companion, a bodyguard, a soldier, and a friend. The Dog Master by W. Bruce Cameron is an evocative glimpse of prehistory, an emotional coming of age saga, a thrilling tale of survival against all odds, and the exciting, imaginative story of the first dog.
A Dog's Purpose Series
#1 A Dog’s Purpose
#2 A Dog’s Journey
Other A Dog's Purpose Books
Ellie's Story: A Dog’s Purpose Novel
Bailey’s Story: A Dog’s Purpose Novel
Molly's Story: A Dog's Purpose Novel (forthcoming)
The Rudy McCann Series
The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man
A Dog's Way Home (forthcoming)
The Dog Master
The Dogs of Christmas
|Publisher:||Tom Doherty Associates|
|Product dimensions:||4.10(w) x 7.40(h) x 1.60(d)|
About the Author
W. BRUCE CAMERON is the New York Times bestselling author of A Dog’s Purpose, A Dog’s Journey and The Dogs of Christmas. He lives in California.
Read an Excerpt
The Dog Master
By W. Bruce Cameron
Tom Doherty AssociatesCopyright © 2015 W. Bruce Cameron
All rights reserved.
The big mother-wolf and her mate had made a den in a small cave along the stream. She was heavy with her pups, and she and the father had left the pack to give birth. She had done this before — left to bear her young, tended to by her mate, only to return to the howling site when her pups were able to travel and eat solid meals. Memory and instinct were both guiding her now.
The male-wolf was out searching for food. It was still cool, this spring, and the air carried elements of ice and water, buds and new leaves, stale grass and lush shoots. She took a deep whiff of it, noting that though he had been gone some time, she could still smell her mate on the breeze. He was not far away.
A shift inside of her told her the time had arrived. The birthing would start momentarily. Suddenly extremely thirsty, she left the den and eased down to the stream and lapped at the clear water. This would be her last drink on her own for several days. Her mate would regurgitate all of her sustenance while she lay nursing. But right now she drank and drank, some primitive part of her calculating the need to take on liquid.
Her senses alerted her to a shift in the breeze. She heard it in the trees and smelled it before it stirred her fur, but by that time her head had already whipped around, her pupils dilating and her nostrils flaring.
The wind was now flowing straight from the direction of the den and it carried with it the scent of a killer. The mother-wolf could tell that the lion was approaching, whether by chance, or because it was tracking the tantalizing odor of the fluids that had started to leak from her.
She hesitated. Her instinct was to flee, but it battled with the urge to return to the den to give birth. She padded a few feet toward the den, then halted. No. The lion was coming from that direction, coming fast.
She turned and ran for the stream, which even deep with meltwater could be forded without swimming. She lunged across, her pregnant belly slowing her down, scrabbling up the opposite bank and hearing the lion hit the water behind her. She turned and the lion was upon her.
The attack was swift and brutal. The mother-wolf ignored the pain as lion claws raked her flanks and she twisted, snapping her teeth, trying to get the lion's throat.
Then a massive impact tumbled them both. Male-wolf had arrived and had thrown himself into the fray, slamming into the lion and seizing the feline behind its head. Yowling and growling and screaming, the two did battle.
The mother-wolf turned away and fled toward the den. She could not rejoin the fight; her only concern could be for the pups.
Her rear legs gave out when she was still two dozen yards from the mouth of the den. She crawled ahead, panting, while behind her she could hear the yelps and screams of her mate's final moments. The lion was nearly twice the size of the male-wolf — the outcome of this bloody engagement had been foretold the moment the feline found them.
She was still struggling toward the mouth of the den when the sudden silence behind her pronounced the end of the fight. She kept her eyes on the opening where a gap between rock and ground made for the entrance, dragging her useless legs, focused on getting to safety and not looking back even when her senses told her the lion was coming after her.
* * *
The man had never been alone. Not like this, not with no prospect of seeing another human as he made his way along the rocky bluffs bordering the slender stream. No prospect of ever seeing another human, not ever again, though that seemed impossible, even ludicrous. Of course he would return to his tribe, would be allowed to return. He could not imagine anything else.
But on this day, with winter still lurking in pools of crystalline snow in deep shadows and buds barely making their long overdue appearance on the trees, he was turning his back on his people, both literally and figuratively.
Just as they had turned their backs on him.
He had tracked along the stream for most of the day, trekking into unfamiliar territory. This was land that belonged to no clan — he was safe here.
He carried a pouch sewn from reindeer hide looped over his shoulder, and carefully extracted some dried meat to chew on while he walked. His mind was on rationing, stretching his supplies as long as he could, but his stomach was focused on hunger and the easy availability of food. As a sort of compromise, he did not use the smoldering horn dangling from his neck to make fire to heat his snack, as if depriving himself of that luxury was a relevant sacrifice. The horn was packed with coals and moss and, with a few sticks and leaves added every so often, would still be potent enough to allow him to make camp before dark.
He carried both club and spear and was watching the ground for animal tracks when he heard a strange, almost ghastly, grunting and hissing. Several creatures of some kind were just ahead. He stopped, tense — hyenas? His heart was pounding — though he had never seen one, he knew he could neither successfully flee nor fight a pack of hyenas.
A shadow crossed the path and he jerked his head upward as a huge bird ghosted out of the sky and landed to a chorus of loud hisses and furious wings beating the air. Less afraid — no one had ever, to his knowledge, been killed by birds — he eased forward.
There was blood on the trail, here. Something had happened on this path, something savage and brutal, with lion tracks and wolf tracks jumbled together.
He tightened his grip on his club and, drawn by the noise, went down to the stream and stopped. A flock of immense, hideously ugly birds, with deadly beaks and featherless faces, were pecking at what he determined was a dead wolf on the opposite bank. He had never seen them before, but he supposed these were vultures. He watched their greedy plunder of the corpse for a moment, his lips twisted in repugnance.
"Yah!" the man yelled. "Away!"
The birds all but ignored him, so he stooped and picked up a rock. He hit one and the entire flock took flight, beating the air as they strained to take off.
The wolf was completely torn apart — the tracks suggested the fatal injuries had come from a cave lion, whose immense paw prints sank into the mud, but the vultures had stripped the flesh to the bone.
The man knelt, puzzling it out. It appeared that there was a vicious fight on the other side of the stream, the lion taking on the wolf. The male-wolf was eventually killed in the battle right there where he lay. Yet the blood trail was on this side of the stream. What had happened over here, away from where the vultures had been feeding?
He studied the tracks. They told a contradictory story, both lion and wolf prints seeming to go back and forth to the stream. But the blood only went in the direction away from the banks, away from the dead wolf. How was that possible?
What if he had it wrong? What if there were two wolves? Both fought the lion. The shredded carcass of one canine lay where it died, on that side of the stream, while the other one fled to this side.
But a lion probably would not attack a pair of wolves unless they were pups, and, judging by the tracks, the surviving wolf was even larger than the dead one. But something brutal had occurred here. Also, where did the wolf go when it escaped? By all appearances, it had crawled off to die.
The corpse of the wolf on the other side of the stream was too picked apart to be of any use, but if he could find the other one and it was more intact, the man decided to harvest its fur. There was great honor in wearing a wolf pelt.
He cautiously followed the blood trail, his club at the ready. A wounded wolf would attack instinctively, though judging by the blood loss he felt fairly certain the other wolf would be dead.
The track led directly to a small hole in the rock wall — a dark semicircle where the rock pulled back from the soil like an upper lip curling to reveal an open mouth. Blood was smeared on the earth in front of the hole.
The wolf was in there.
He drew in a breath, considering. If he went in with a torch held out in front of him, the wolf could not attack without getting a mouth full of flame. He could at least assess the situation, and retreat if the wolf was aggressive.
Or, if he went in with the torch, the wolf might rip it from his hand and then tear out his throat.
This was, he reminded himself sternly, why he was a man, not a boy. A man needed to meet challenges such as these. He, he needed to meet the challenge. There were those who said he would not survive the year — he would not allow himself to prove them right by failing on the very first day.
He made a torch by winding dead grasses around the end of a branch. His heart was beating strongly in his chest, and when he lit the torch from coals in his fire horn, his hands trembled.
The wolf, he reminded himself repeatedly, was probably dead.
He shoved the torch into the hole in the rock, listening for any sort of reaction, but heard nothing. He could not see much past the flames, not from outside, so he squirmed in, hating how vulnerable he was as he pushed past the lip of the cave.
Inside, it was a narrow squeeze, and he was only able to advance if he remained on hands and knees. His palms picked up a sticky liquid as he crawled: more blood.
At a very tight turn, he had to climb over some rocks, and then a shaft of light fell on his shoulders. He glanced up and saw that a crack in the rock extended all the way up to the sky, many times a man's height and large enough in radius that had he known about it, he could have climbed down it instead of wriggling through the hole.
Starting with the crack, the cave was larger, tall enough for him to stand if he stooped, wide enough that he could not quite touch both sides with his fingers if he spread his arms.
His torch seemed weakened by the light from the shaft, but just past it and the flames licked back the darkness with authority.
He saw the wolf, a female. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed. He stopped, holding his breath. Pressed up against her were three tiny pups: newborns. The mother-wolf's side had been raked by lion claws and glistened with blood.
She was breathing, though he could not tell if the pups were also alive.
Now he understood. It had been a fight to the death by a male-wolf defending a mother-wolf ready to whelp.
He stared at the scene, his vision becoming more clear in the dancing flames from the torch head. The mother had a white spill of fur on her dark grey face, looking a little like a man's hand. She was still motionless. If she were almost dead, the pups would never survive.
He needed meat — while he had never heard of anyone eating an adult wolf, the very young of nearly all animals could usually be made into palatable meals. He decided to take the pups and harvest the adult's fur. There were plenty of rocks he could use to finish off the mother, though judging by the way she looked — her eyes closed, her chest barely moving — she was very near to death.
Should he wait, or pick up a rock and get it done?
Tired of stooping, he knelt in the gritty sand. It was an awkward motion for him, and he made some noise as his knees hit the ground.
The mother-wolf opened her eyes.CHAPTER 2
Alarm coursed through the mother-wolf and she growled, struggling to her feet. A human was inside her den, a human and a fire. Instincts as old as her species told her to attack this threat to her pups.
Her back legs were not cooperating so she lunged with just her forelegs, dragging herself at him, her throat full of enraged snarling.
The man smelled frightened and made a lot of noise as he scrambled backward. The fire followed him. She registered the burning thing in his hand even as he tossed it wildly away, and then the human was in the part of the den where outside air and light flowed down from the roof. She went for his legs, her teeth ready to tear into his flesh, but he was able to climb up out of reach in a shower of small stones and dust.
She looked up at him, still growling deep in her chest. He was panting, but less fear was pouring off him. He was wedged up in the rocks like a leopard in a tree. She wanted to return to her newborns, but could not as long as this menace remained.
The tiniest squeal behind her told the mother-wolf that her pups were missing her, and her teats ached at the sound. She stared at the man, wanting him to leave the den so she could take care of her young.
"Hey," the human called softly. "Want some meat?"
The mother-wolf heard the man's sounds and they were reminiscent of the calls from the humans who often fed her. She growled again. The smell of the still-burning fire from the front of the den was upsetting, and this human reeked of smoke as well.
When something small and light fell from the man's hand, the mother-wolf backed away from it, then eased forward and sniffed suspiciously.
"It is reindeer. Eat it."
The flesh was familiar, if dry and tasting strongly of smoke, but it was edible. She crunched it.
"See? It is good."
So. This human was one of the kind who fed her. She looked him full in the face and saw the same raised eyebrows she had long ago learned meant no threat.
Nothing in her instincts would allow any animal, even a friendly one, into her den. But the lion's attack had altered everything. She could smell the faint odor of her mate's blood and knew intuitively that he would not be coming back. Her life's focus now needed to be her puppies. Nothing else mattered.
Another piece of odd meat fell. She ate this one without hesitation — something beyond hunger told her to take in all the food she possibly could. Then she turned away to drag herself back to her litter.
* * *
Later, the mother-wolf registered the grunts and scrambling sounds as the man moved around. She did not know it was the sound of him climbing up the shaft, that the cascade of small stones bouncing off the rock face was from his near fall as he groped for handholds. The scent of fire remained even as the man's smell abruptly faded from fresh to stale as the man succeeded in his ascent.
She closed her eyes, pushed away her pain, and let her young suckle at her side.
She awoke a short time later: The man was coming back, making noise as he squeezed through the entrance at ground level. She stiffened, her hackles rising, but her growl never made it past her throat. Her tolerance was learned behavior, overriding her instincts. She needed food and the man was providing. Now she smelled wet wood and, deliciously, water.
She was unhappy when the flames, which had died away, started flickering higher, shadows jumping up the walls again, but she did not move, watching the man in the steadily building light, as he crept forward with a log.
"You need water. I am going to pour it in the hollow here, in the stones. See?"
The mother-wolf registered the man sounds and then the enticing spill of water from the branch he was holding as he pointed it down. A small pool of water formed, close to her head, and her young made tiny peeps as she pulled herself forward with her two front legs, leaving them behind.
The man backed away abruptly, then cautiously returned when the mother-wolf lapped at the water.
"I will take the hollow log back to the stream for more."
The mother-wolf returned to her young, lying down with a groan. The pain in her flanks bit hard when she moved, though it dulled if she lay still. She licked her pups carefully before falling back to sleep.
* * *
The light building and waning as it filtered down the shaft, and the noises and smells coming in on the air currents, gave the mother-wolf the sense of days passing. During the daytime, the man was often absent for long stretches, but as night fell he would build a fire at the bottom of the crevice and remain until sunrise. She could not directly see him: a large pile of loose rock separated the den from the rest of the cave, but he was detectable by his scent. In the morning he would climb over the mound of rocks and toss her small pieces of the odd dry meat. He came very close to her, and she could eat without having to rise fully off the cave floor.
Excerpted from The Dog Master by W. Bruce Cameron. Copyright © 2015 W. Bruce Cameron. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
This book made me think in many ways. When thinking of the early humans, i did not think how the dog changed them. We will never know the true story. But maybe this could be an option. This book can jump around to diffrent views, but hold out. It will make sence as time goes on. I cried and was joyed by the story of a glimps into the past. So worth the money to read this story.
I'm happy to say it: This is, hands down, W. Bruce Cameron’s BEST novel to date. Just like the thousands of people who have given it a perfect 5-star review, I LOVED “A Dog’s Purpose,” W. Bruce Cameron’s novel for which he is best known. It is a sweet, touching, charming book that really will always hold a special place in my heart. While “The Dog Master” is very different (impossible to compare, really) I have to say this one is my new favorite of his. In fact, this might just be my new favorite book, period. If W. Bruce Cameron was at a nice trot with his other work, he is at a full gallop for this one. It is an ambitious, sprawling and (I’ll say it) EPIC read. Just like “Game of Thrones,” you will find yourself immersed in his universe. The setting and the cast of characters will stay with you while you’re reading this, and remain in your thoughts for days after you’ve finished. The story takes place in formidable, ice-age landscape full of monstrous predators (animal and human), and although the events in the book are monumental, it is, at its core, a very human story of struggle, survival and triumph. This author found a hard-line to my emotions and used it to craft a satisfying adventure. I laughed, I cried and at one point I found myself standing up, hand in the air, cheering out loud (something I’ve never actually done reading a book, before this one). This book will get your heart pounding and your hands shaking. It will remind you why you love novels in the first place! Life is too short to read books that feel like an obligation. If you’ve ever found yourself pouring through one of his novels, you’re in for another treat.You'll be up late, lose track of time, and go on an a real adventure. Not only do I recommend you get this book, I recommend you put down whatever you’re currently reading so you can start on this instead!
This book is certainly fiction. For just a moment how do we know something very similar didn't ocur? Great research! Could our ancestors have actually lived like this? Did women actually lead the tribe? We'll never know what actually happened. In the meantime, I'm looking at my boxer and trying to see his ancestors in him. Wish there could be a sequel to Mal and Dog.
What is most remarkable about this work is not the incredible writing, or the fact that you simply cannot put it down. I expect that from this author, whom I've loved since the 2010 publication of his book A Dog's Purpose. What's remarkable is the fact that this sweeping, epic story of how a fierce predator, a wolf, came to be our companion and partner is based on the latest archeological evidence, which I actually knew about before I got my pre-ordered copy of this book. In 2011, remains of wolves were discovered in Europe, buried with humans in a ritual fashion, with, and this blew me away, bones buried in the wolves mouths, as sort of an eternal dog treat. These bones were carbon dated to the Paleolithic era, which is when this book takes place. But if you don't care about the science, you'll care about the drama, and the characters who leap of the page. The heroes and heroines of the book will stay with you, but the villains are equally "sticky," so much so that you actively root for their downfall. I won't plot spoil, I'll just say this is the best read I've had all summer, and that this book gets my highest recommendation. I will never, ever, look at the wolf descendent who sleeps in my bed the same way again.
W. Bruce Cameron has done it again! After I read A Dog's Purpose, which I know was on the NY Times Bestseller List for over a year, I thought I'd never read a book that great again. I was wrong. The Dog Master had me hooked from the first page, and I didn't come up for air until I'd finished it! As a dog lover I often wondered about the origins of the wonderful and inexplicable relationship between human and dog, and was so pleased to find a book that ponders the same question. Though I was lucky enough to win an advanced copy in a giveaway, I'm planning on ordering multiple copies to give as gifts to other dog lovers and readers. Cameron does an amazing job of illustrating such a unique time in history, as well as making his characters and story lines so identifiable. This novel had everything I wanted from exciting battles to tales of forbidden love, and of course, the heartwarming story of the first domesticated wolf. The Dog Master is the story of two paleolithic tribes struggling for survival and their spiritual connection with a pack of wolves that bare the special "hand-print" marking. Not only are they faced with the dangers of hunger, lurking and ferocious wildlife, other vicious tribes of humans, but also the struggle for power amongst their own tribe members. A Dog's Purpose and A Dog's Journey have long been my favorites books because of Cameron's distinct ability to write from the perspective of a dog, and thankfully there is more of the same in this book. In fact, the unique circumstances by which dog (or in this case, wolf) and human come together are truly astounding. I hate that it had to end, but I was encouraged by what I saw as a potential segue to a sequel. Don't hesitate to get a copy of this book and another as a gift! I would have given it 10 stars if I could!
Loved this book. A great story of how early man and wolf might have lived and formed bonds. A haunting, and sometimes brutal, story of love and honor, duty and loss, fear and triumph. I miss these characters already.
The history .....maybe this is fiction ,but who knows how close he may be to the truth of the very first dog.
A must read for anyone who as known the love of a dog - a book that vividly depicts the intriging and complex characteristics of mankind and how the love can fill our hearts with the love that makes us whole
If l could br assured of more about dog history and less about humans and their sex life, I would go ahead and purchase this book. From the short preview provided, it does't appear to be the case.
This is not a dog training book or your daddy's dusty old science book. This book is a tale of the worlds FIRST DOG and how she came to be. Man's struggle to survive the beginning of the ice age is filled with rich family and society dynamics. Written so that as you read you can't help but wonder what is next. Mr. Cameron is wonderful at crafting twists and turns. I highly recommend this book to anyone but I encourage young adults to try this and ALL W. Bruce Cameron's books, you won't be sorry!
Cameron's best novel yet! "The Dog Master" is not simply a "dog book". In fact, there are times throughout this tale that I forgot the story was about the first dog. In "The Dog Master", Cameron explores relationships and day to day challenges between people, and people and their environments, in the paleolithic era 30,000 years ago. It is an epic novel that shows humans at their best, and worst, and most importantly highlights and shows that all beings have the potential to overcome incredible obstacles in our lives, from blizzards to lion bites, loss and birth defects. The achievements of Mal and those of Dog can be related to personally by most imperfect human beings. While none are perfect, we can find ourselves perfectly happy with the right person (or dog). The story very interesting, rich in detail with characters that draw you in. This is a terrific read, and one that should bring Cameron critical praise. Fans of "A Dog's Purpose" will certainly love this book, but I truly believe it has a much greater reach even beyond the lovers of dog tales.
If you've ever wondered what kind of person managed to befriend a wolf when most wolves would have been happier to eat humans, this novel provides one possible explanation. The Dog Master follows two human tribes and a small wolf pack in Ice Age Eurasia as they struggle for survival. The Wolfen strive to live as much like wolves as possible and regularly pay tribute to a wolf pack they follow. The Kindred settle in northern caves for the summer and travel south for the winter. Both tribes face challenges from the weather, food scarcity, and a terrifyingly brutal tribe they call the Cohort. Each tribe has strict rules and hierarchies to help them survive the harsh life of Ice Age humans. One human defies a tribe’s ruling and sets into motion the events that would lead to a wolf becoming a dog. The Ice Age story is bracketed by that of a contemporary professor who has a breakthrough while trying to learn everything possible about the first wolf to become a pet. Although the professor appears only in a handful of pages, he is a fascinating character. The story of how the tribes arrange their lives is a story of intrigue and political machinations among and between early humans. All of the human characters are real, complicated, and fully-drawn. More importantly, the story features some wonderful wolf characters. W. Bruce Cameron has a way of getting into a dog’s head (or a wolf’s head) and telling the reader what might be going on in there without being overly sentimental. He also has keen insight on how human packs work and has some good guesses on how we managed to get some wolves to join us and become dogs.
A carefully crafted epic that immerses you in the Ice Age. A story never before told about the first tamed canine and her human, and how, amongst the violence of a brutal time, love domesticates humans. The story is Game-of-Thrones dramatic and the world of early humans completely built out, but the story is subtly told so there are few distractions from the non-stop action and characters' conflict. The story is third-person and alternates between many characters' points of view -- the technicality of this is impressive -- but my favorite mind to read from was Dog. (Not surprisingly, since this author's other best seller [[ASIN:0765330342 A Dog's Purpose]] is written from the point of view of a dog and is one of the few books I cried reading.) Timeless.
I could hardly wait for this book to be released. I loved A Dog's Purpose, and have read all of W. Bruce Cameron's books. My taste in reading is somewhat eclectic. My curiosity was peaked from the first chapter. I was thrust into the story which drove me into a reading frenzy. I gulped this book down. I took chunks of it, and devoured them, yearning for more. My eyes could not keep up with my brain and hearts demands, and I was forced to put the book down to get some rest. I was realizing that this book was reminiscent of two of my favorite books, A Dog's Purpose, and Clan Of The Cave Bears. I was hooked. Refreshed, I again, dove in and when finished I licked my fingers clean. It was succulent. The characters evolve, and hold you fast to them. The round about way the story weaves between them, you gasp when the hidden becomes obvious. With the rise of the plot, the tissues came out, just as a great book demands of you. This might be W. Bruce Cameron’s finest work. If you loved A Dog’s Purpose, you will feel as if you are cheating on it, when your new love is now The Dog Master.
W. Bruce Cameron is back, and, once again, there's a dog at the heart of the story. And, oh, what a story it is, too! The first chapter made me think it was going to be a book Michael Crichton might have written: a professor's discovery of a prehistoric man buried with his dog. Could this, the professor wonders, the first "dog"? And from there, we head back in time some 30,000 years to a world of various tribes making their way as the Ice Age looms. So, clearly, readers are not getting another follow-up to Cameron's best-seller "A Dog's Purpose" (one of my all-time favorite books), and it's certainly not the feel-good joy of his "The Dogs of Christmas." But it is a stellar tale for the ages, or, better put, of the ages, the awakening of mankind as tribes found their place in a savage world. With them are all manner of beasts, including wolves. In Cameron's entertaining travelogue of world history, we find the origin of dogs, all the descendants of wolves, of course. There is no moment in which scientists can tell us when and how this happened, so we depend on talented writers like Cameron to take us there. What could explain a cave drawing of a man with a leashed wolf/dog? Who was that man buried with a wolf/dog? When was the genesis from wild beast to man's best friend? It's all in a story that is breathtaking in its complexity, depth and human emotions. In the world Cameron creates, humans are very much like we are today -- looking for love and our place in where we call home. But dark emotions rule, too. It all pushes the story along at a brisk pace. Like "A Dog's Purpose," I am always amazed at what Cameron is able to achieve. This is an epic tale of adventure. Highly recommended for dog lovers, history lovers and, heck, people who just want a fantastic book.
An absolute must have for all dog lovers! I laughed, I cried, I held my breath! This book captured my attention from the first page to the last, in fact it left me wanting more! Mr. Cameron has a way of writing that touches the heart and stimulates the imagination! I got so caught up in this book I felt like I was there, in it!
Warning: May Cause Sleepless Nights--It's Unputdownable I was extremely fortunate to receive an advanced reader copy of W. Bruce Cameron's newest novel, The Dog Master. If you're looking for a great summer read--or an excellent read for any season--this may be just the ticket. According to the Afterword, a couple years ago, Cameron read about a recent archeological discovery of 30,000-year-old bones of a man and what is believed to be his pet wolf, what essentially would be the first "dog." Cameron then imagines a compelling prehistoric tale set in pre-Ice Age Eurasia. I'm not much of a "dog person" (I haven't been owned by one since I was a kid), and I don't believe I've ever read prehistoric fiction, but this was an enthusiastic two thumbs up from me. I've read and enjoyed several Cameron novels and I really do believe this is his best work yet. A word of warning, though--don't pick this up a few minutes before bed, thinking you can read for a bit and then just put it down. You'll tell yourself you'll finish this next chapter and then close the book for the night, but the end of each chapter contains an enticing nugget that compels you to read "just one more." And before you know it, you've stayed up half the night and look like a train wreck the next day. But it's worth it!
This review is for "The Dog Master" and not "The Dog's Purpose" which was actually pretty good. The author let us know he knows about sex. Yes, I got it. A little less sex and a little more story would have made this a pretty good book.
This book wasn't like his others, but it was a wonderful book. Imagine if this is how the first dog came about. A real page turner. Need a sequel maybe.